Unanswered
by xXKimiko SakakiXx
Summary: 'Do you want to play basketball? Come on let's go and play. I never see you anymore. Come back to me. Please don't stay away.' In which Kagami never returns and Kuroko is still holding on to a tiny speck of hope that he'll get a reply. Based on a kurokonotext submission on Tumblr. KagaKuro.


For iseefairies (tumblr), for this idea, and kurokonotext (tumblr), for delivering the scene. Original idea credit to Disney's _Frozen_.

**Unedited.**

.-.

The dog was curled beside him on (their) his bed. It had too much space, and Nigou barely filled in the empty spot. Kuroko himself was curled into a ball, staring at his phone. He considered calling a number. He did it without hesitation.

Three rings, and a pre-recorded message.

"_Hey, this is Kagami Taiga. Sorry I missed ya, I'll call back as soon as I can. Seeya."_

It was curt and straightforward. So like his Kagami. It was good to hear his voice. He missed it so much, his watery smile revealed.

He then considered texting. Maybe he'll reply.

_Kagami-kun?_

He waited. 9:15 AM

When no response came, he tried again.

_Do you want to play basketball?_

He waited again.

_Come on let's go and play._

A stuffing pain came up his throat.

_I never see you anymore. Come back to me. Please don't stay away._

_We used to be best partners, and now we're not. I wish that we still are._

_Do you want to play basketball?_

Kagami always replied if it was something related to the sport. But maybe—

_It doesn't have to be basketball._

He didn't reply that morning.

_No?_

_Okay, bye._

.-.

"Satsuki."

A pink-haired woman looked back to her childhood friend, her fingers lingering at the door. She wore a forlorn expression, one to which was identical to the all faces in the room.

Aomine walked up. "Don't."

"But—!"

"Let him be," he lightly coaxed.

"He needs someone there!"

"He needs to be alone," Aomine said more firmly, "Nothing can make it better right now, trust me."

When Aomine spoke in that rare soft tone, Momoi knew better than to argue. Giving up on that knock, she slumped against her friend, delicate tears threatening in her eyes. She let it go when two arms came around her. The girl was absolutely emotionally, and physically exhausted.

So were the rest of them.

It had been 31 hours since the unimaginable happened. No one saw it coming—but who _could_ see Death? It was invisible and invincible, promiscuous and unfair; it chose whoever to pick on and that night, it decided on Kagami to be his playmate.

A cold and snowy night wasn't enough, Death just had to throw a mad-drunk truck driver in the mix too. In just one second, he was taken away.

News quickly reached the victim's friends. The first contact in his call-history was his roommate. His partner. Lover.

And now Kuroko remained locked inside of their bedroom, now _his_ bedroom. Never once had he come out, for food nor water. Only when he needed a washroom break, but that was when they all dead asleep (adding on to his lack of presence).

Akashi sighed. It wasn't healthy, the direction his former teammate was taking. He needed to come out.

The red-head emperor strode up to the door, and not even bothering with a knock, he commanded, "Tetsuya, get out. You need to eat."

It was probably the first time anyone had seen Kuroko ignore his superior.

Akashi would have none of that.

"Kagami would be very disappointed to see you like this."

The rest silently protested—it wasn't like they could verbally object to his actions. It was known that Akashi was never refused. Terrifying consequences were inevitable.

The door swung open, followed by an angry water bottle flying into Akashi's chest. No one dared to breathe.

Kuroko had never looked so _dead_ before. Lifeless yes, when tragedy sparked during the Teikou basketball incident; but soulless, tired to the skin and bones. There was no joke to calling him haunting, like a ghost. Drained veins highlighted pale blue roads across his skin, the deep hollows in his eyes dug deep until there were no pieces of his soul left.

Kuroko rarely expresses his feelings, but tonight, there were absolutely none.

Except maybe, a little empty anger.

"Kagami-_kun_ isn't _here_ is he?" His croakiness did not hide his defying anger. Kuroko was shaking, either by lack of energy or his frustration, but he was about to faint any minute.

Akashi didn't waste his breath. He lightly tapped Kuroko's shoulder towards and gravity let the small blue-haired boy tip forward.

"Atsushi."

The tallest man in the room quickly reacted and caught Kuroko in his arms. Cradling him princess-style, Murasakibara carried him over to the small dining area and settled him down in the _zabuton_.

"Come on Kuroko_cchin_, I baked some cupcakes. They're not sweet."

Since he had no strength left, Murasakibara sat behind him, acting as his back support. Everyone gathered around, afraid of what to say. It looked as if any word could break the vulnerable boy.

"Tetsuya." Akashi placed a warm cup of tea in front of him. "Drink slowly."

It was a medium-sized cup—smooth china, pastel coloured with a fluffy blue bunny faintly painted along the bottom. Those who frequented their household knew this was Kuroko's cup.

Blue eyes held their gaze. Something's missing.

Patience was virtue, and it was vital if they wanted Kuroko listening again. When the boy didn't move, Akashi mentally sighed and asked, "Tetsuya?"

"I…" His voice was croaky, raw and dry from lack of speaking. "I want his."

Akashi understood immediately. He came back with another, this time, a dark-red mug with a black-lined tiger hanging on the side.

Kuroko reached out like an infant reaching for milk, his eyes only on the red mug. He held it close, cradling with his small pale hands. It was warm, hotter than his own cup. He wavered a small smile—Kagami was always the warmer one, always provided him protective heat.

He felt a familiar lump forming in his throat. Gripping the mug tightly, Kuroko took his first sip and forced heavy weights down. Tears formed and burned his eyes. He couldn't resist a small whimper. Kagami's warmth is still there, in his hands, giving him that secure feeling.

The taste was bitter; it left a bitter aftertaste and a bitter afterthought. This was not how Kagami prepared their milk-tea. He could never taste Kagami's drink again.

Still he finished. His body could not deny the insatiable thirst his insanity created. Kuroko browsed his surroundings. There were people here, many. What were they doing here? He didn't want them.

Something colourful caught his eyes. It was carelessly hung on the chair, Kagami's apron. He knew it was dirty with food scraps and oil. He should wash it; it hadn't been for months now. His view lead to the small kitchen behind. It was messy, just how Kagami liked it. He was a great cook, but a messy one.

His head hurt to think he would never taste-test Kagami's meals again. They were delicious meals.

One thing lead to another. The people, who crowded up the place, disappeared. In this apartment, there was only him now. And traces of a former resident.

His wrinkled jacket, lifelessly hanging from the wall hook. His sneakers sloppily piled on their shoe rack. That ancient basketball wrecked from high school, beside a small cabinet showcasing all his trophies and medals from university. Kagami wipes them weekly with soap water.

He knew their toothbrushes were still in the same spot, stored together in their shared cup. And his black towel would be shoddily hung over his neatly white towel. Kagami's electronic shaver—he liked his facial hair, but Kagami felt younger when shaved.

He knew everything was exactly placed as they were before—before Kagami left permanently. But he felt it different.

It was bigger now, more spacious. With his presence gone, their home was empty. Lonely. It sucked the life out of this place, and his soul was at unrest. It was looking for its missing counterpart.

But he knew he was never going to find it.

His fingers were cold. Kagami was gone.

Kuroko sunk in, deeper into the large body surrounding him. Kagami was all over him, always; he felt safe, assured. There was never doubt when he was around. But even now, he was unsure. He was open, weak, unsafe and vulnerable to anything. Exposed.

It wasn't the same.

Maybe it was how this person didn't curl his shoulders over. Or how he didn't have his arms curled around his waist. How he didn't cross his legs, creating a small seat just for Kuroko, but instead sat with legs straight out. Maybe it was how Kuroko noticed the missing presence in the nook of his neck, a lack of kisses pressed upon his sensitive area.

This person was not Kagami.

So with all the strength he could find, he measly wiggled, cup in his hands. His muscles struggled to move. Inches away. But he was quivering, it tickled to strain.

Kuroko bit a cry. He tightened his grip on Kagami's cup. It wasn't supposed be like this. Kagami was supposed to stop him from going anywhere, supposed to keep him locked in his possession.

The small of his back trembled, from his silent broken cries. Where was Kagami? He was tired of holding back.

"Kuroko-_kun_."

He looked up, straight into the eyes of a former rival. Himuro gently slid his arms around the small boy and bought him into his soft embrace. Nuzzling, the man brought his hand and gently ruffled the back of Kuroko's head.

This was something familiar, Kuroko remembered. This was what Kagami would do.

He realised, Himuro Tatsuya was a person close to him, who knew him inside out. He _knew_ Kagami.

And that was more than enough.

He whimpered. He cried. He broke.

Kuroko was a quiet man. Even at his lowest point, no one could hear his voice. But through his buried sobs and large intakes air, they could hear his anguish.

And Himuro's soft shh's, blowing comfort into his ears.

But he couldn't hear. There was ringing in his ears, loud and deafening.

He knew the one was providing comfort wasn't Kagami, but it was, he forcefully concluded, the closest thing to him.

He had no choice but to settle with the fact that Kagami Taiga—his roommate, his friend, life partner, rock, his light—ceased to exist.

And he would be stuck forever as no one's shadow.

.-.

He would never stop trying. 1:55 PM

_Do you want to play basketball?_

_Or hang out at Maji Burger?_

Kagami's love for burgers came hand-in-hand with Kuroko's love for vanilla-shakes.

_I think us meeting up Is overdue._

_I've started talking to Nigou way too much._

_It gets a little lonely, being on the court. Just playing by myself._

He dreamt, last night, that he was the only one with the basketball. And he had absolutely no one to pass to.

It was the scariest dream.

.-.

They left when Kuroko finally decided to cooperate, but not before giving a light scolding and get-better's. And be-strong's, and it'll-be-okay's. He could take care of himself; he just left that responsibility to Kagami before. And Nigou. He had to take care of Nigou too. No one was here to play with him anymore.

And when the apartment was physically void of any humans, he started breathing a little quicker. And his ears rang louder. He was paralyzed.

Being alone had never felt so terrifying.

4:37 PM

_Kagami-kun?_

_Please, if you can hear me._

_People are asking how I've been._

_They say have courage, and I'm trying to._

_I'm just waiting for you, so please come back._

_I just want you by my side. That's all I want._

He coughed. His irregular breathing caused watery chokes and forced whimpers. He wiped his tired eyes of tears, but the hotness kept coming. It wouldn't stop.

_I don't know what to do._

_…_

_Do you want to play basketball?_

He murmured the last line, voice broken beyond repair.

He was given silence as an answer.

.-.

That morning, when Kuroko had enough force to pull himself out of (their) his room. He caught attention to an iPhone innocently waiting on the table. Bottom lip quivering, he pressed power—and there it was: all his texts listed row by row, unopened, unviewed.

Of course he would forget his phone on the night of his death.

His knees buckled and when he couldn't take it, his body slid to the floor and against the table he kneeled, gripping the phone hard. Stupid Kagami, why didn't he take his phone? Why did he leave it here? No one was going to answer it for him, certainly not Kuroko.

Because maybe there would be a chance that Kagami…

—hot tears threatened to burst—

…Kagami could reply.

His teeth shut rigid, unable to think. He was so tired.

Now he would never give an answer. And they could never play basketball together.

.-.

_Sure. Meet you at the court._

.-.

Zabuton: the cushion that Japanese people sit on.

If Kagami is gone, who could Kuroko turn to? I had to think about it for a while actually. The little guys had so many senpais and friends that he could turn to everyone for support. But Himuro, who's alive and well, was the closest to Kagami, and that could perhaps make Kuroko feel more connected to him.

Is this angsty enough? I do hope I brought out some tears…otherwise I need to improve my writing. Comments would be greatly appreciated!


End file.
